


A Successful Sleep Experiment

by Qualitydreamer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 18:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16792381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qualitydreamer/pseuds/Qualitydreamer
Summary: Sherlock asks John to sleep with him, literally. What happens when the raw chemistry threatens to break loose. (One shot)Major fluffFirst time writer





	A Successful Sleep Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> Read it like a script. And imagine the scene along the story. I had this amazing idea of a fluff scene but I suck at putting it to words

“John?” Sherlock had said, staring at John’s casually ruffled hair, to which the doctor had replied with a sigh, not looking up from his menu.  
“Sherlock, I said it once and I am gonna say it again, for the very last time. You have to eat something. It is not healthy to starve, no matter what your statistical analysis says. I’m your doctor and you have to listen to me.”  
It was a quiet Saturday evening at Angelo’s. With a candle placed between them, which, for a change, neither of them seemed to notice or mind, Sherlock had decided to finally ask John and get the anxiety over with.  
“John?” he called again, this time letting the panic affect his pitch. John looked up, surprised, and nodded for him to continue.  
“I....I know why you decided to end things with Mary. And I respect you for taking this decision”  
John looked down at the menu again, an attempt to conceal the tiny sad smile forming on his face. He sighed.  
“I am not surprised Sherlock. Now come on, have you decided what you want yet?”  
“John, there is one more thing” Sherlock looked away as John attempted to meet his eyes. “Can you please sleep with me?”  
John’s eyes grew wide as he stared at the detective, shock and surprise giving his face a weird type of calmness. “What? What is this now, Sherlock?”  
“I asked you if you’ll sleep with me” Sherlock said, his attention now devoted to a couple bickering on the bench outside.  
“Sleep with you?”  
“Yes, sleep with me” Sherlock said, meeting John’s eyes, “Didn’t you hear me?”  
John looked away, muttering to himself, “I always hear ‘sleep with me’ when you’re speaking but it’s usually sub-text”  
“Oh for God’s sake!” an exasperated Sherlock cries out loud as he smashes his lips to John’s, who, after an initial hesitation, kisses him back. Or that is what happened in John’s head in the brief two seconds where he lost himself in his long desired fantasy, till Sherlock’s voice shook him out of it.  
“John, are you even hearing me? I asked you, if you would sleep with me in my room for tonight. Honestly, what is so hard to understand here?”  
“Oh...sleep in your room you meant. Yeah, yeah I will. Why are you suddenly making this very strange request though?” John asked, still flustered from the misinterpretation he had.  
“I have been having bad dreams, and so have you, judging by your constant footsteps and peeking in my room at odd hours”  
“Oh, um, you saw me. I never doubted I could get away with that but I thought maybe I’ll manage to outsmart you long enough”  
“Long enough for your therapist to cure your insomnia? I think my way is better and more effective in many ways” Sherlock said with a cocky smile as their conversation faded to the menu once again.

It has been three weeks since Sherlock made that request. They had been sleeping in Sherlock’s room every day since then. At least that is what Mrs Hudson thought; who had already began to give them ideas for the possibility of an upcoming wedding.  
“So, you went upstairs at 3 am” Sherlock remarks, on a bright morning, which contrasts well with the atmosphere in 221B Baker Street.  
“What, what are you talking about?” John says, with a peculiarly suspicious expression, putting down the coffee cup he was nursing in his hands.  
“I know you go back upstairs to your room every night John”  
John sighs. In some way he knew Sherlock would find out, wanted Sherlock to find out. He needed help; he couldn’t do it alone, no matter what he told himself. Because John, the stoic one in their relationship, does not ever ask for help. He couldn’t then, he can’t now. He had accepted defeat a long time ago.  
“How do you know? I was as discreet as I could this time. There were no footstep noises and no peeking. Even Mrs Hudson couldn’t sniff my presence in the upstairs room”  
“Fairly easy to guess, judging by the amount of fading warmth in the sheets and the way they were been flung aside, in one swift movement, so as not to disturb me. You didn't make a decision lying in bed; you had already decided to get up later, even on the first night, three weeks ago.”  
“Sherlock, I... I am not, this is not...” John tries to put his insecurities to words, but fails for the hundredth time. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go.  
“I know, I know, you're not gay, right? You're not gay and it's always about that, isn't it?” Sherlock flung himself up from the couch now, flailing his bow around wildly.  
“Sherlock, you’re a tad bit overreacting”  
“I am over reacting?! I have never...” Sherlock shouts when suddenly John loses his patience and screams, causing Sherlock to stop right in his tracks.  
“Enough! Stop it. You know what, I thought of all people, you would understand.” John storms out of their apartment, a new purpose and determination in the way he walked.  
Sherlock pulls back the window curtain to watch him go, a smile on his sad face. “I've got to stop doing that” he mutters to himself as he picks up the tune where he left off.

8 p.m. Sherlock mentally notes the time John comes back. He also, without moving, notices John swiftly exit Sherlock’s room upon going inside. He smiles to himself.  
“Mind if I ask what that is?” John says, looking incredulously at a still violin playing Sherlock.  
“What is what?”  
“That huge machine in our..”  
Sherlock looks up and John gulps, suddenly not very keen to meet the detective’s gaze.  
“Your... your room”  
Sherlock looks down again, a soft smug smile playing on his lips.  
“It's an electric room heater John. London's getting really chilly these days.”  
“You don't fool me Sherlock. Is that some part of an experiment? What is that for? Answer me honestly”  
“You don't think I can be actually cold during the night?” Sherlock asks, his grin no longer discreet.  
“No I don't.”  
“Ok ok, um... it's there because I bought it”  
“And.... why's that?”  
Sherlock gets up and takes a step towards John  
“So you can leave whenever you want and I will have no way of knowing when. I can't deduce the exact time if there's heat everywhere and your sheets never get cold.”  
John’s face falls, so does his anger. It was moments like these where he knew he couldn’t ever stay angry at the crazy, dorky Sherlock Holmes.  
"Now, I know, I've been a terrible friend" Sherlock continues as John winces, urging Sherlock to change his choice of terms.  
"Roommate?"  
John sighs.  
"I know I've been a terrible partner John, but I'd like to apologise now. I'll understand if you don't want to sleep with me again."  
John is sporting a tiny smirk now, bemused at Sherlock's choice of words again.  
"Sleep in my room I meant, oh get that mind out of the gutter for God’s sake" Sherlock says, John's smirk not escaping his notice. "But I just wanted to let you know that I understand you and you can take as much time as you need. I'll always be there" He says as he subconsciously moves even closer to John. His eyes hold sincere guilt as his hands crave to touch the doctor.  
John, unaware of Sherlock’s clenched fists, places his arms around the stiff detective. Sherlock’s arms unfurl to wrap themselves around John’s tiny, warm body. It was the first hug he had ever responded to, trapping in his body the only man he ever called friend.  
John finally wiggles himself out of the embrace. “Thanks Sherlock. I don’t know what to say, wow. This means a lot to me.”  
“Now, now, don’t you begin tearing up. Let’s set up the heater and get the room cosy, eh?” Sherlock says as John playfully punches his arm.

The next morning dawns bright and clear, much like the sudden dawn of realisation between the detective and his now official roommate.  
Sherlock and John are tangled in a, what can only be described as, a mesh of limbs. John, who is clearly the big spoon, is now moving their shared blanket over his eyes in an attempt to postpone the waking up. His first instinct, to sniff the curly hair beside him, jolts him awake.  
Sherlock, sensing the change in John’s breathing, snuggles further into him. “So how was it? I’m glad you didn’t leave after all” he sleepily remarks, a smile making its way upon both their faces now.  
“Uh...It was surprisingly enjoyable, I won’t lie.” John says, “Not so bad once you finally do it”  
“Are you sure we are talking about the same thing John?” Sherlock turns his head back, smirking at his partner.  
“Now look who’s got their mind in a gutter” John sniggers and yawns, “Your heater worked wonders. I didn’t even think of going upstairs, after getting all warm and cosy.”  
Sherlock chuckles at this and snuggles further into John, a protective layer of blanket being the only thing keeping them away.  
“Oh wait, you didn’t, did you?”  
“Did what John? What are you suggesting I did?” Sherlock says, not being able to hide his fit of giggles any longer.  
“This was your plan all along, wasn't it? Seducing me into your bed with an electric heater? Boy, do you know my weak spots”  
A loud guffaw breaks out from one side of the bed as John curses himself for being tricked again.  
“Did you seriously think I couldn't guess the time you left without the heat? I seriously suggest you buy a new brain. I am fairly familiar with the depth of your ass prints in the sheets John.” Sherlock chuckles as John sighs and joins him, their laughs echoing in the quiet apartment.  
As the noises fade out and silence befalls them once again, Sherlock turns to look at John, who unconsciously wets his lips. Sherlock moves his head further towards him, craning his neck to reach. John, unprepared yet fully aware of the moment that was bound to happen, closes his eyes.  
“That ought to wait until breakfast, don't you think?” Sherlock snickers as he jumps out of the bed and winks at John before leaving the room.  
“You utter, utter, cock tease.” John exclaims and wraps his blush in a roll of blanket that still smelled like his curly lover.


End file.
